


How It Might Have Been

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Competent Tony DiNozzo, Family, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: These will be tags to various episodes where things might have gone differently ... for a competent Tony!I'll update the tags as new chapters are added and additional characters are introduced.





	1. Season 1 episode - Missing

Tony DiNozzo stood in the showers at NCIS and let the hot water pour over his skin and hair and tried to picture the anxiety and (yes, he’d admit it) the _fear_ being washed away along with the dirt and the sweat.

Tony finally brought himself to turn the shower off and it was then that he heard voices outside the shower cubicle,

“You hear what happened?”

“No, I just clocked on.”

“Gibbs’ team, they found that mass murderer they’d been after.”

“It’s Gibbs’ team, of course they did.”  Tony could picture the shrug.

“Yeah, I know.  But wait till I tell you what DiNozzo did …”

“Go on, then.”

“He got trapped in the sewers with this guy they’d been looking for.  Bill … Globe I think his name was.”

Tony mentally corrected _globe_ to _atlas_ and continued to eavesdrop.

“… and he – DiNozzo – had a knife hidden in his belt.  And he used it to get him and Globe out of a cell they’d been locked in.”

“Gibbs’ll be pleased.  Isn’t that one of his rules?  Always have a knife?”

“Yeah, yeah.  But that’s not all.  It seems that Globe …”

“ _Atlas,_ ” Tony mentally insisted.

“… was half dead.  DiNozzo dragged them both through the sewers even though the murderer was after them.  And then he managed to capture her.”

“Her?”

“Yeah, turned out that the mass murderer was a woman.  Guess that’s where equality gets you.”

“And DiNozzo did all that?”

“Yeah.  Sure did …”

Tony braced himself for the snide comment.

“… Todd and Gibbs were there but DiNozzo was the one who finished it off.”

“Good.”

Tony tensed himself for the next words but all he heard was the sound of feet walking away.  He stood there stunned for a moment or two before realising that he was becoming chilled and resumed drying himself.  A few minutes later he was sitting at his desk in the squad room.

“You OK, DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs.

“Er, yes, Boss.  I’m fine,” said Tony.

“You can do your report tomorrow,” said Gibbs.  “No rush.”

“It’s OK, Boss.  I’ll do it now.  Where are the others?”

“Kate’s gone home.  I’m guessing McGee’s on his way back to Norfolk.”

Tony thought it was more likely he was on his way to Abby’s; perhaps to show her his _Mom_ tattoo again but he decided not to put this idea into Gibbs’ head.  He was beginning to be fond of McGee and didn’t want to see him squished by Gibbs.

Tony switched on his computer and brought up the template for his report but he found he was reliving the overheard conversation in the showers.  The two unknown agents hadn’t been shocked that he, Tony DiNozzo, had been the … yes, hero of the hour.  They didn’t seem to have thought that he was more likely to trip up or have to joke or charm himself out of the situation.  No, they had obviously thought that he was a highly capable agent who could be expected to acquit himself well.

“Huh!”

“What’s that, DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs.

Oops, he didn’t realise he’d said that out loud, “Nothing, Boss.”

“You sure you’re OK?” asked Gibbs.

“Sure, I’m fine.  Just finishing up.”

Tony returned his attention to his computer screen and, being tired and in a hurry, decided to type at his preferred rapid rate.  The report was soon written and he sent it to print before emailing a copy to Gibbs although he wondered how long it would languish unread in the Boss’s inbox.

Tony lingered at his desk although his work was done and returned to contemplate what he had learned that day and he realised with a shock that it was a long time since he had thought of himself as competent.  Logically he had always known that he was: Gibbs had actively recruited him and he knew that Gibbs’ standards were of the highest but somehow, with an alpha male in charge, the picture of himself as a skilled agent had blurred … until today when the image had come sharply into focus once more.

“Huh!”

“What?”

Oh, it had slipped out again, he must be more tired than he thought.  “Sorry, Boss.”

“Go home, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs with a half-smile.

“In a minute,” said DiNozzo.  He might be tired but he thought there was something else he needed to do.  He searched on his desktop and grinned when he saw that McGee had pasted an HR icon there.  Looked as if the McNewbie was looking for a new opening …

A few minutes later, Tony shut down his computer and went to stand in front of Gibbs’ desk.

“Um, I’m off now, Boss.”

“OK.  That was good work today, Tony.”

The unexpected praise warmed Tony’s heart.

“Thanks, Boss.”

“Go on then.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, Boss.  Night, Boss.”  Tony turned to go but then turned back, “Er, Boss …”

“What?”

“Um …”

“Spit it out, DiNozzo!”

“Yes, Boss.  I-I-I’ve applied for Liam’s old job.”

“McKenzie?”

“Yes.”

“You applying to be agent-in-charge?”

“Yes, Boss.”

Gibbs stared at Tony.

“It’s time, Boss,” said Tony.

“Yes, it is,” said Gibbs and this time it was a full grin on his face.  He stood up and stretched out his hand for Tony to shake.  “And if Morrow doesn’t give you the job, he’ll have me on his case.”

“Yes, Boss.  Thank you, Boss,” said Tony.

“Now, get out of here,” said Gibbs. 

“Yes … Jethro.  I mean, Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't often write a supportive Gibbs but, in Season 1, perhaps it was more likely.


	2. Season 10 episode - Prime Suspect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a tag for the Season 10 episode 'Prime Suspect'.

Tony’s day had barely started and it had already gone to hell in a handbasket.  Tony prided himself on being a team player so perhaps he should have got some solace from the fact that his misfortune had cheered his co-workers up a lot.  And, to be fair, they probably needed cheering up.  While Tony and Ned Dorneget had been on assignment to the Bahamas the rest of the MCRT had been working on a ‘case’ brought to their attention by Gibbs’ barber.

FLASHBACK

Frankie Dean had confided in Gibbs that he was concerned that his son Cameron fitted the description of a mass murderer being sought in DC.  Tony wasn’t sure why, but Gibbs seemed to be attached to his barber … perhaps he was the only barber in DC who would agree to cut his hair like that?  Tony reckoned that if _his_ barber cut his hair that way – well, he wouldn’t be going back for a repeat performance.

Whatever the reason, in typical Gibbs fashion the team was soon focussed on trying to find the real killer but, in the process, had inadvertently alerted Metro PD that Cameron Dean fit the profile.  Tony considered that they were all lucky that Cameron had somehow managed to forgive his father for suspecting him but then he realised that, in his experience, sons were supposed to forgive their fathers even if such forbearance was rarely reciprocated.

Still, the case had been solved.  Dorney and Tony had been successful in their trip to the Bahamas although Ned had returned with his first case related black eye.  Dorney had also found out that he had, thanks to Tony, been studying unnecessarily for a GS-11 exam and had been about as pleased to find out as Ziva had been a few years before but Tony had dismissed that as a small blip on an otherwise successful conclusion to their case.  Until that morning - when he discovered that his expenses claim for the Bahamas had been rejected on the Director’s orders and that the claims for the previous two years were to be audited.  The note on the rejected claim advised him that he had an appointment with the auditors in an hour’s time.

END FLASHBACK

“That’ll teach you,” said McGee.  “It’s probably karma for leading Dorney on.”

“I didn’t see you telling Dorney the truth,” snapped DiNozzo, “Or you, Ziva.”

Ziva shrugged, “I did not want to rain on your party.”

“ _Parade,_ Ziva.  Rain on my parade, not party,” said Tony wearily.

“Two years, huh?” said McGee.  “That’s not going to be pretty.”  He saw Tony’s glum face and was moved to pity, “You want me to help?  I can collate your submissions.  Maybe put them on a spreadsheet for you?”

“Thanks, McPity,” said Tony.  “I’ll let you know.  Appreciate it, though.”

“And Tony,” said Ziva, also feeling sorry for her co-worker, “If it is any comfort, I _benefitted_ from reading the NCIS handbook.”

“Thanks, Ziva,” said Tony, “No, it’s not much comfort … but, as before, I appreciate the effort.  I’m going to the breakroom.  I need … something.”

A few minutes later, as Tony was sitting morosely in front of a mug of cooling hot chocolate, he became aware that Ned was standing in front of him.

“Come to gloat some more, Neddie?” he asked bitterly.

Dorneget shuffled uncomfortably, “No.  I came to apologise.”

“For what?”

“For being pleased you’re being audited and …”

“Go on,” said Tony magisterially.

“Well, and to say thank you, I suppose.”

Tony was surprised and lost the magisterial air, “ _Thank you_?  For what?”

“I learned a lot from you when we were in the Bahamas.”

“You got a black eye,” said Tony.

“But we got the bad guy,” pointed out Ned.

“That is true,” said Tony.

“And it _was_ useful reading the handbook.”

“Huh, unlikely as it seems, you have something in common with our resident ninja.”

“I do?  You mean Ziva?” said Dorney with a pleased smile dawning on his face.

“The very same.  She said it had been useful to learn all the regs.”

“She was right.  It meant I knew that you couldn’t make me run errands for you.”

“That’s true, Grasshopper.  See how my methods are complex and mysterious?”

“They’re certainly unconventional,” said Dorney, “And I didn’t see them recommended in the handbook …”

“The handbook is more for guidance,” said Tony loftily.

“But they worked.  I’d have been too scared of you to fight back if I hadn’t read the regs,” said Dorney.

“So you’re not scared of me now?” said Tony in a disappointed voice.

“No, I don’t think I am,” said Ned confidently.

Tony laughed, a rather chilling, disturbing laugh.  The smile faded from Ned’s face.  Tony crooked his finger and Dorney, with some reluctance, leant forward to hear what Tony had to say,

“Oh, Grasshopper … that was just the first lesson.  There is so much more to come.”

Dorney gulped and took a step back.

Tony decided to be merciful, “But that won’t be for a long time.  And, meanwhile, you did good.  You should be proud, Dorney.  You were a good partner.”

Dorney almost stood to attention, “Thank you.  And I’m sorry that it was through me that Director Vance found out about me studying for the GS-11 test.”

“Excuse me?”

“Director Vance.  It was he who told me that the test was obsolete.  And he said …”

“What did he say?”

“He said we should teach you a lesson.”

“He did, did he?” said Tony.

“Yes.  I’m sorry.”

Tony rose to his feet, “Thank you, Dorney.  That’s very interesting.  Here, throw this away, I don’t want it anymore.”  He held his mug out to Dorney.

“But,” stammered Ned, “I don’t have to run errands for you …”  He trailed off as he encountered Tony’s cool gaze which was oddly intimidating.  “But, it would be a pleasure,” he added hastily, “Sir.”

“Better,” said Tony.  “And you’d better hope that Agent Gibbs doesn’t find out you had a hand in getting me audited.”

“Why?” asked Dorneget paling at the idea that he had excited the _wrath of Gibbs_.

“You really think that Gibbs is going to be happy at the thought that I’m going to be tied up with the Finance department for days to come?  Being a man down? Huh!  Good luck with that, Dorneget.”  And with that, Tony swept past a stunned Ned who decided to beat a hasty retreat to the evidence garage.

NCISNCIS

It was as Tony had predicted: the MCRT were a man down while his expense claims were audited but Ziva, Tim and Gibbs couldn’t help but notice that Tony was succeeding in putting a very brave face on his ordeal.  If they didn’t know the horrors of being audited they might even have thought that he looked happy.

Finally, a week after the dreaded audit began, Tony arrived in the squad room one morning to find a thick interoffice envelope on his desk.

Ziva and McGee hovered sympathetically: they might both tease Tony (a lot) but when the chips were down, they would have his six.

“I got you a coffee,” said Ziva.  “I had Barbara the barista to make it just the way you like it.”

“Thanks, Ziva, appreciate it,” said Tony.

“And I got you a donut,” said Tim, placing it gently on the desk.  “Lemon and cinnamon, your favourite.”

“Thank you, McGenerous,” said Tony.

“So,” said McGee, “Looks as if Finance have finished with you.”  He pointed to the envelope.

“I am sure they will find some convivial way to make the adjustments,” said Ziva sincerely.

Tony’s brow wrinkled as he tried to translate this, “Oh,” he said, “You mean congenial … thanks, Ziva.”

Tony didn’t look worried as he opened the envelope and read the contents.  He refolded the pages and put them back in the envelope and then seemed to become aware of his anxious audience, “What?” he said innocently.

“What do you mean, _what_?” asked McGee.  “You’ve just been audited.  That can’t be good.”

“You can tell us, Tony,” said Ziva gently, “We will help you if we can.”

“Oh,” said Tony nonchalantly, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” asked Tim.  “What do you mean?”

Tony removed the papers from the envelope and handed them to Tim, “See for yourself,” he said.

Ziva and Tim pored over the documents and then looked at Tony in amazement.

“They say that your claims are model examples …” said Tim.

“That they want to use them as training material for new recruits,” said Ziva.

“Yes,” said Tony, “And they decided that I’d probably been underclaiming because I’m so used to working sixteen hour days that I forgot I could claim subsistence for duty over our allotted hours when working on out of town cases.  They owe me,” Tony took the letter back, “$4562.76.”

“They owe _you_ money?” said McGee.

“Who’d have thunk it?” said Tony jovially.  “Guess the drinks are on me tonight.  Oh, whoops, not tonight.”

“Why not tonight?” asked Ziva suspiciously.

“I have a date tonight.  With the lovely Shelley.”

“Shelley?  Shelley Jackson?” asked McGee.

“The very one,” confirmed Tony.

“Shelley Jackson from Finance?” asked Ziva.

“Yes.  We bonded over my expense claims.  She found their clarity to be … well, let’s just say that the most unexpected things can be a turn on,” said Tony dreamily.  “Oh hey, Dorney!  How are things?”  He had spotted Ned walking sadly into the squad room.

“Not good,” said Ned.  “I’ve got to resubmit my claim for the Bahamas trip.  Ms Jackson suggested I come to you for advice?”

“Always ready to share my wisdom,” said Tony kindly, “Now, if you could just run into the breakroom and get me a plate for this donut that Tim so kindly bought for me … that would be great.”

Ned’s brief spell of standing up to Tony had gone and he meekly took his leave.

“Director Vance!” said Tony politely as he saw the Director arriving, “A beautiful morning, is it not?”

The Director grunted something that could, optimistically, have been taken as a greeting and then continued his passage to his office.

“What’s the matter with him?” asked McGee.  He meant it as a rhetorical question but he happened to be looking at Tony as he said it and he saw a strange look in Tony’s eyes.

“Rumour has it,” said Tony blandly, “That Director Vance is going to be investigated.”

“Why?  What for?” asked Ziva.

“Wasting NCIS time.  Triggering an unnecessary audit.  It might even count as harassment … victimisation,” said Tony thoughtfully.  “But, like I said, it’s probably just a rumour.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you hadn’t guessed, I hated the way this episode ended. So I wanted to ‘fix’ it!


	3. Season 8 episode - Short Fuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a tag for the Season 8 episode in which Tony was about to be made the ‘Face of NCIS’ but was replaced by Gibbs …

Tony DiNozzo watched with a sense of shock as his co-workers clustered around Gibbs congratulating him on being selected as the new ‘face of NCIS’.  He didn’t know what was worse: being replaced with an _older_ model or the subtext of the Director’s decision to go with an image of _Integrity, Service and Leadership_.  Tony sighed as he realised he shouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t meet those criteria in Vance’s book.

Ziva and McGee were among those flocking around Gibbs but Tony decided to focus on the positive: Ziva had sought to comfort him by suggesting that Tony’s shoulder had made its way into the winning picture.  His less optimistic side couldn’t help but think that was all he was good for in Gibbs’ world – a blur in the background, unseen and unnecessary.

Tony pasted his _good loser_ look on his face; a look he was well used to wearing in the MCRT.  He averted his eyes momentarily from the throng around Gibbs and noticed Ron Sands staring at him.  Tony stared back thinking that the Public Affairs officer who had been in charge of all the photoshoots was not one of his favourite people.  For a moment, Tony regretted that Ron hadn’t actually made it on to his Christmas card list as it would have given him a brief moment of satisfaction to cross him off it.

It was then that Tony realised that Ron was gesturing for him to join him. 

“Huh, I don’t think so,” muttered Tony to himself and he shook his head.  Ron wasn’t deterred however and gestured once more.  Tony sighed and decided he might as well go and see what the guy wanted; it would at least be a chance to get away from the sycophantic chorus around the Boss.

“Going for a break, Boss,” he called although he was fairly sure he wouldn’t be missed.  He walked towards Ron, somehow feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.  “What you want, Sands?” he demanded as he approached.

“I need a word, Tony … er … Agent DiNozzo,” said Sands nervously.

“Go on.”

“Not here.  Let me buy you a coffee,” said Sands.

Tony was about to refuse when a burst of laughter came from the crowd around Gibbs’ desk.  “Sure,” he said, “And it had better be a large one.”

“Of course,” said Sands and he took Tony by the elbow and led him away.

Tony stared at the hand on his arm in shock and Ron hastily removed it.  Ron didn’t seem want to say anything else and Tony was content to practise his air of offended dignity until they reached the coffee shop.

“What can I get you?” asked Sands.

“Large caramel latte.  With whipped cream on top,” said Tony.  He waited until Ron had got their drinks and was surprised when he was ushered to a corner table where a young woman was sitting.  “What’s going on?” he asked coolly.

“Tony, I’d like you to meet …”

“Phoebe Buffet,” said the young woman.

“Phoebe Buffet,” said Tony, “You know, if you said that without pronouncing the T at the end, you’d sound like Phoebe Buffay … from Friends.”

“I know,” said Phoebe, “That’s why I pronounce the T.”

Tony realised how much he was still shaken by the recent turn of events when he failed to flirt with Phoebe but instead tried to rattle her about her surname.  “If you don’t like the name you could use a different first name,” he suggested.  “And I quite liked Phoebe … in fact I liked all of Friends.  You know, they were all trustworthy and reliable.”  He turned to glare at Ron.

“Tony,” said Ron, “Please understand that I hated doing that …” and he laid his hand over Tony’s.

“O K-a-y,” said Tony, “Back it up there, Ronnie.”

Ron patted Tony’s hand gently before releasing it.

“What’s going on?” asked Tony, “And make it quick.  Agent Gibbs will soon get bored of his fan club and come looking for me.”

“Ms Buffet is on a secondment with the Office of Public Affairs,” said Ron.

“It’s part of my research for my PhD,” she explained.

Tony yawned.  He knew he was being rude but at that moment he didn’t really care.  He wasn’t sure he owed anything to the _Office of Public Affairs._

“I’m doing research into the power of photography.  How our brains process images,” she explained.

“Oh,” said Tony, “You mean which images best portray _Integrity, Service and Leadership_.?”

Phoebe frowned, “You could say that.”

“Thank you,” said Tony, “I just did.”

“I’ve been working with Ron over selecting the right image for the NCIS recruitment brochure.”

Tony resisted the temptation to yawn again and said, “And?”  He didn’t resist the temptation to tap the table impatiently.

“And to begin with I thought your face was the perfect image,” she said.

Tony wasn’t sure if he should be mollified or not, “But you changed your mind?”

“Yes, and that’s when I suggested to Ron …”

“And I didn’t want to do it,” said Ron in an agitated way.  His hand fluttered over Tony’s arm but he refrained from touching it.  “It was torment,” he almost moaned.

“What was?” asked Tony feeling even more bemused.

“Taking bad pictures of you,” said Ron.

“What?” demanded Tony.

“Taking you from the wrong angle.  With the light wrong.  When you weren’t comfortable,” said Ron with the air of someone in the confessional.

“You were deliberately taking bad pictures of me?” said Tony.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” said Ron.

“So I was right?” said Tony.

“About what?” asked Phoebe.

“I didn’t understand why the photos didn’t look right,” said Tony.  “I mean, don’t get me wrong … but I’m a good looking guy and the camera usually loves me,” he shrugged, “It’s the DiNozzo genes.  It’s how we are.”

“I know,” said Ron, “The bone structure, the eyes … the eyelashes …”

Tony backed his chair away slightly, “Good to know you’re a fan, Ron.”

“Oh yes,” said Ron fervently.

“The first pictures Ron took were excellent,” confirmed Phoebe.

“But I get the feeling you thought that was a bad idea?” said Tony.

“Yes.  They were too good,” said Phoebe.

“Excuse me?” said Tony.

“It’s a delicate balance,” said Phoebe, “The photos on the brochure need to be aspirational.”

“Yes?” said Tony.

“And I’m sure would be agents would aspire to be like you,” said Phoebe.

“Oh yes,” said Ron again.

“And that’s a bad thing?” asked Tony.

“Oh no,” said Phoebe.

“Then I don’t understand,” said Tony.

“They’d aspire to be like you,” said Phoebe, “But they’d know they wouldn’t get there.”

“How could they?” asked Ron rhetorically.

Tony looked at him suspiciously but decided not to respond to him, “So you asked Ron to take bad pictures so …?”

“So Director Vance would change his mind about using them,” said Phoebe.

“What?” asked Tony.

“I figured that would be agents would be deterred from applying if they thought the standard was … someone who looked like you,” said Phoebe.  “And the idea behind the brochure is to encourage people to apply.  I didn’t think having you as the face of NCIS would be effective.”

“Oh,” said Tony.  He took a sip of his latte and decided it was not just its warm sweetness that was melting the lump in his chest.  “And you couldn’t have just come out and told me that?” he asked Ron.

“I would have,” Ron assured him, “But I was taken by surprise.  I thought I could tell you in private … before the public announcement.”

“OK,” said Tony, thinking that if Ron had been on his Christmas card list he might have escaped being deleted.  He took another sip of his drink; perhaps it was the coffee taste that spurred another, unwelcome, idea, “So you think putting an agent coming up to retirement on the cover is a good thing?” he asked.

“Well …” said Phoebe.

“You don’t think that it will make people think that perhaps NCIS has good retirement benefits and that’s why someone stays that long with them?” asked Tony.

“Well …” said Phoebe.

“Or think that as they’re only 25 perhaps they’re too young to apply for NCIS?”

“Well …” said Phoebe.

“’cos it might look like an agency for old men?  Is the target demographic really people in their fifties?”

“There’s an argument that it speaks of dedication … continuity,” said Phoebe.  “You could say it says something of the core values of NCIS.”

Tony set aside his feelings of disappointment to bring his investigative skills to bear, “But you don’t agree with that argument,” he said, “And _you_ wouldn’t say that about the core values of NCIS?”

“No,” admitted Phoebe.

“Then why Gibbs?”

Phoebe took a deep breath, “People want Gibbs gone.”

Tony was shocked, “You mean they’ve put out a hit on him?”

“No, no,” said Phoebe.  “Well, I don’t think so.”

Tony considered Gibbs’ past history, “Actually, I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said, “But go on.”

“I told SecNav of my doubts about you being right for the cover.  He asked to look at the photos that Ron had taken and he saw those he had taken of Gibbs.”

“Yes?”

“And it gave him an idea.”

“It did?”

“Yes.  You know that he’s close with Director Vance?”

Tony suppressed a shudder, “Yes.”

“And he figured that Gibbs being away for a while would make the Director’s life easier.”

Honesty compelled Tony to agree but he didn’t want to appear disloyal so he simply shrugged noncommittally.  A thought struck him, “But why would Gibbs be away?”

“You know,” said Ron, “The tour of universities you would have been doing.”

“Oh yeah,” said Tony as he regretfully remembered that he had been scheduled to go on recruitment visits to several universities.

“That will take some time,” said Phoebe.  “And SecNav thought it would be a good idea to include visits to all the NCIS bases.  You know, speak with their HR and local recruiters.”

“Hawaii?” said Tony sadly.

“Yes,” said Phoebe.

“Rome … Singapore?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Phoebe gently.

Tony took another sip of the latte, “Seoul? Guam?” he said as he cheered up.

“Yes.”

“NCIS has more than 150 field locations,” observed Tony.

“Yes.”

“It’ll take a long time to visit all of them,” said Tony.

“Yes.  And SecNav thinks it’d be good to take photos on aircraft carriers as well,” said Phoebe.

“Well,” said Tony, “I wouldn’t want to leave Kate that long …”

“Kate?” asked both Phoebe and Ron in worried tones.

“My goldfish,” explained Tony.

“Ah,” said both Ron and Phoebe in relieved tones.

“And that makeup was clogging my pores,” said Tony.

“Occupational hazard,” said Phoebe.

“And the Director has gone along with this?” asked Tony.

“Yes,” said Phoebe.

“And Gibbs has?” asked Tony a little incredulously.

“Well,” said Phoebe as she looked at her fingernails, “It might be that …”

“What?” asked Tony.

“It might be that he didn’t read the small print of the agreement very closely …”

“Ah,” said Tony, “He hates wearing his reading glasses.”

“That’s probably it,” said Phoebe wisely.

“But he won’t go along with it,” said Tony.  “Not when he finds out what it really entails.”

“He won’t have any choice,” said Phoebe darkly, “SecNav will see to that.”

“Really?” said Tony sceptically.

“He could always resign … or retire – those will be his options,” said Phoebe.

“When does he leave … on this goodwill tour thingy?” asked Tony.

“Next week,” said Phoebe.

“Wow,” said Tony.

“In fact …” said Phoebe, “Ron, you should go and start making arrangements.”

Ron stood up reluctantly, “It’s been a pleasure, Tony,” he said, “And I’ll always treasure those first photos I took.  Goodbye.”

“Right.  Thanks,” said Tony uneasily.  He watched Ron go and then he sighed.

“You know, Tony … I can call you Tony, can’t I?” said Phoebe.

“Sure,” said Tony, “You seem like one of the family already,” he smiled brightly.

“You know; I don’t think you’d have liked being the face of NCIS.”

“What?  Being looked at adoringly by all those college students?  Looked up to as a hero?  Not _enjoy_ that?” asked Tony.

“I think you’d soon be bored, Tony.”

“You do?”

“Yes.  I did my masters in employment science.  And from my observations I would say you’re best suited to a job that challenges you and uses your skills.”

“Flirting is one of my skills,” said Tony wistfully.

“You’d get bored,” said Phoebe firmly.

“You may be right,” said Tony doubtfully.

“And if your picture was on the brochures … well, it would make your face well known …”

“So?”

“It might have made going undercover more difficult,” said Phoebe.

“I never thought of that,” said Tony.

“I didn’t think so,” said Phoebe.

Tony straightened his back, “So, just to be clear … I wasn’t replaced by an older model?”

“No.”

“You thought I’d set too high a standard for wannabe agents?”

“Yes.”

“And it wasn’t because the Director didn’t think I epitomised _Integrity, Service and Leadership_?”

Phoebe was less sure of that but crossed her fingers under the table and said, “No.”

Tony gave what felt like his first genuine smile of the day, “Then I guess that’s OK then.”

“And Tony …”

“Yes?”

“There’s something else …”

“Yes?”

“Agent Gibbs will be out of the office for quite a while.”

“Yes,” said Tony, “All those universities …”

“Yes.”

“And field offices.  More than 150.”

“Yes.”

“And the aircraft carriers.  How many aircraft carriers does the US Navy have?”

“I don’t know.”

“About 20,” said Tony.  “But I guess he won’t have to visit all of them?”

“I don’t know,” said Phoebe.

“It’ll be strange,” said Tony.  “A big change.”

“Change can be good,” suggested Phoebe.

“Yes?”

Phoebe coughed, “I think the Director promised Gibbs that his job will be waiting for him when he comes back.  Eventually.”

“Yes?”

“So that means you’ll be in charge until the tours are over.”

“Yes?”

“Time to shine, Tony.  Time to step out of the Gibbs’ shadow.”

“Huh,” said Tony.  “Who’d have thought it?”

“Thought what?”

“Rejection is the sincerest form of flattery!”

 

 

 


	4. Season 8 episode - Cracked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revisiting the horrors of the Season 8 episode ‘Cracked’ … the Fat Elvis/John Travolta episode.

The day after Halloween Tony DiNozzo was at his desk before his co-workers: he felt he needed to process the weirdness of his life.

Tony ran his finger thoughtfully around the rim of his coffee mug and wondered when his life had become a soap opera.  The only question was whether he was the comic relief or the tragic hero.  He sighed as he considered the possibility that he played both parts.  He certainly suspected that other people in the office looked at him and murmured, _there but for the grace of God go I_.  He sighed again as he remembered the time of his confident youth when he had dreamed that people would long to emulate him … somehow he didn’t think that was the case any longer.

Tony consoled himself that he had his moments of brilliance; the flashes of insight which could solve a case, his ability to sift the wheat from the chaff of a witness’s statement … all this was good but sometimes competence at work did not compensate for other aspects of his life.

For at work Tony hoped he could consider himself to be a competent team worker but outside – well, what _could_ go wrong _would_ go wrong.  And if that wasn’t one of Gibbs’ rules he was going to take it for one of his.  He wasn’t sure where Ethyl should fit in but she was certainly the example of things going wrong, or complicated, – with a vengeance.

And yet it had started well.  _Special_ Ethyl – and thank you, McGee for making that connection, was sweet, gentle and kind but she had a will of her own and, Tony learned, was not one for waiting patiently.  She knew what she wanted and she got what she wanted.

Tony thought back over recent days and tried to recall how it had gone wrong.  He had tried to explain that he admired Ethyl’s sense of family and steadiness but had also allowed his co-workers to overhear the racy talk between himself and Ethyl.  That had been a tactical error as was his letting slip that he was anxious about Ethyl’s plans for Halloween.  Tony’s co-workers were bound to pick up on his nervousness – indeed both Gibbs and Tony would have chastised McGee and Ziva if they had failed to notice.  Situational awareness was key in their jobs.

Having noticed Tony’s anxiety, it was almost impossible that Ziva and Tim would not begin to circle for the kill.  And again, Tony could not blame them for it: they were all trained to identify weakness and then go in for the bloody denouement.  Tony shook his head as he realised he was casting himself as a character in a melodrama as well as comic and tragic hero: his co-workers would tease him, laugh at him, extract their pound of flesh but they would not eviscerate him completely … would they?

And yet it should have been fine.  Sweet gentle quirky Ethyl was a good presence in his life.  If only he hadn’t let the team overhear _that_ conversation.  If only the case hadn’t been the periodic one which led to Abby going into one of her manic phases.  If the case had been a normal one (or as normal as the MCRT ever got) then there might have been time to _explain_ about Ethyl more clearly but with the whole team dynamic skewed the team’s view of the relationship followed suit.

It was, Tony felt, a sign of how off his game had been that he hadn’t inspected the John Travolta suit earlier.  He couldn’t fault its flashiness or its _polyesterness_ but he could regret it being slightly too short, slightly too tight … slightly too skimpy for his mature form.  Perhaps if he’d looked earlier he could have found a replacement.  _Perhaps_ if he’d realised the horror that awaited he could have made sure the case didn’t get solved so quickly.  _And_ , he thought indignantly, since when did they get out on time for Halloween?

Tony scratched his head and hoped that his scalp would recover from squashed by the nylon wig yesterday.  Didn’t people know that the DiNozzo dermis was delicate?  He tapped his fingers idly and then recoiled in horror when he realised he was beating out the tune to _Staying Alive_.  A reluctant smile dawned on his face as he remembered the night of showing off his moves on the dance floor … of course, he thought he might have pulled a muscle but, on the whole, he thought he’d escaped pretty lightly.  Considering his sartorial handicap, Tony didn’t feel he’d done too badly … and if Ethyl wasn’t impressed then he’d picked up three other phone numbers from would be replacements.

If Tony was honest with himself, which he often was, he would have admitted that the four Saturday Night Fever Sambuca, Jack Daniels and lime juice cocktails might have helped him get through the rigours of his Halloween with Ethyl.  He groaned as the cocktail induced headache nudged into life and he began to think it was time to make the DiNozzo Defibrillator.

Tony lowered his head into his hands as a precursor to gathering the energy to start assembling the ingredients and then became aware of some disturbance near the elevator.  He hoped it wasn’t his co-workers arriving with a Halloween surprise for him but pasted his happy smile on just in case.

“Ah, there he is,” came an unfamiliar voice.  “Wait here!”

Tony looked up and saw a tall man in late middle age striding towards him leaving an entourage at the elevator.  It took a few seconds but his brain finally processed the identity of the visitor and he scrambled to his feet.

“Put it there, son,” said the visitor and he held out his hand.

Tony took the hand in a dream and tried not to wince as it was shaken with enthusiasm.  At that moment he saw Director Vance coming down the stairs as fast as was compatible with stateliness.

“Mr Secretary,” said Vance, “Forgive me, I didn’t know that we were expecting you today.”

“You weren’t,” came the reply.

The elevator dinged disgorging McGee, Ziva and Gibbs who were momentarily held back by the security detail.

“How can I help you today?” asked Vance.  “Why don’t you come to my office to discuss it?”

“No need.  I’m not staying.  I just wanted to see this guy.”

The Director’s heart sank but he responded bravely, “I’m sure we can resolve any problem,” he said smoothly.

“Problem?  You got a problem?” said _Mr Secretary._

“Uh no,” said the Director.  “I assumed you had one.”

Perhaps it was the word _assumed_ that grated on Gibbs but he drew nearer with Ziva and Tim clustered behind.  Tony’s heart warmed as he saw what he chose to interpret as solidarity with a co-worker.

“Son, I just wanted to come here and tell you that I’ve seen the photos from last night,” said the visitor.  He slapped a brown envelope down on Tony’s desk.

“Um,” said Tony trying to engage his brain.

“ _Who is it?”_ whispered Ziva to McGee.

“ _Secretary of Defence,”_ whispered McGee back.

_“What is he doing here?”_ asked Ziva.

“Shut up and listen and we might find out,” said Gibbs brusquely.

“Er …” said Tony still trying to find dots to join.

“As I said,” said Vance, “I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this.  Whatever this is.”

“You’re a brave man,” said Secretary Deplomb.

“I am?” asked Tony.

“I’m not sure I could’ve done what you did, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Well …” began Tony.

“But you made Ethyl very happy.”

“Well …”

“If I hadn’t seen the pictures I wouldn’t have believed she was that flexible.  The positions you got her into …”

A groan escaped the Director.

“No, Leo,” said Deplomb, “That’s a good thing.”

A strange look passed over the Director’s face: a look immediately and accurately assessed by Tony as being a mixture of gratitude at being addressed by his given name and chagrin at the _wrong_ name being used.  Tony, even if he had been in the mood for helping out the Director, didn’t know what he could do as he could hardly start addressing him as Leo _n_.

“Um,” said Tony, “Do you know Ethyl?”

A look of awed wonder showed on the Secretary’s face, “You don’t know?”

“Know what, Sir?” said Tony.

“Leo,” said Deplomb, “You should be proud of your agency.”

“I am, Sir,” said Vance.

“If they’re all like this young man …” he didn’t notice the grimace on Vance’s face, “… then NCIS has a fine future.”

Vance settled for saying, “Thank you, Sir.”  He couldn’t quite imagine what an agency full of DiNozzos would be like.

“Yes, young man,” said Deplomb turning back to Tony, “Ethyl Grantchester is my great aunt.  A wonderful woman but … well, at 92 we have to expect that some things don’t work as well as they once did.”

Tony nodded in agreement.  His co-workers were clearly speculating which bits weren’t working well and how much of a handicap that had been for Tony.

“She’s certainly a character, Sir,” he said tactfully.

One of Deplomb’s staff tapped him on the shoulder to indicate that it was time for them to leave.

“Huh,” he said, “I’ve got to go.  Meeting at the Pentagon.  Tell you what, why don’t you come and have dinner with my wife and me at our house tonight?  So we can thank you properly.  You’ve made a real difference to Aunt Ethyl.  Someone will send you the details.”

“It will be a pleasure,” said a dazed Tony.

“The pleasure will be ours,” said Deplomb as he shook Tony’s hand again.  “Leon,” he said as he turned to the Director, “You’re doing good work here.”  Vance smiled with gratification.  Deplomb seemed to become aware of a gathering audience and he raised his voice to address them, “I hope you know how much your work is appreciated.  Director Vince leads a fine group of people.”  And with a final clap on Tony’s shoulder, he was gone.

The Director might have denied an accusation of _clustering_ but nevertheless he joined the throng surrounding Tony’s desk.

“Special Ethyl is 92?” demanded McGee.

“And is the Secretary of Defence’s Aunt?” said Ziva.

Gibbs simply took a sip of coffee and allowed others to do the interrogation.

“What were you doing with her?” asked McGee.  “Or maybe I don’t want to know.”

“You might not want to know, but I do,” announced Abby who had heard what was going on and come to investigate.

Tony smiled; his day had definitely just got better.

“Ethyl, who is _very_ special, was organizing a Halloween party at the Retirement Home she lives in.  She gave it a 70s theme.”

“And she asked you?” asked McGee.

“She did.”

“But you called her a … vixen …” said Ziva distastefully, “You were _flirting_ with her.”

“Well, yes,” admitted Tony.

“Surely that is not appropriate for a woman of her age,” said Ziva.

“Hey!” said Tony, “I thought you were happy I was dating an older woman.”  He saw the looks of shock on the faces of his audience so decided to come clean, “Ethyl is … eccentric and she also used to be an actress.  She was trying to get into the mood of what she was like in the 70s … and I went along with her.”

“So you are not dating her?” confirmed Ziva.

“No, Ziva, I’m not dating her.”

“You are not her …”

“Toy boy,” supplied McGee.

“Yes, you are not her toy boy?”

“No,” said Tony, “She’s a friend.  An eccentric older friend.  Who is surprisingly flexible …” he sensed the disapproval once more, “… on the dance floor.”

“But you were apprehensive about what she would want you to do,” pressed Ziva.

Tony winced, “She has a reputation.  I wasn’t sure what her theme would end up being.  I guess I got off lightly it being Travolta.  And we finished off with ballroom dancing …” he paused as he looked dreamily into space, “We danced the last waltz together.”

Gibbs coughed, “Hey, we’re here to work, not gossip,” he announced.

The crowd, including Vance, dispersed obediently.  Tony watched as people walked away and then realised that Gibbs had taken up position in front of his desk,

“So,” said Gibbs, “How did you get to know Special Ethyl?”

Tony wriggled uncomfortably, aware that Ziva, McGee and Abby hadn’t gone far and were still listening.  “You know how it is,” he said awkwardly, “How you meet people.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you go many places that 92-year-old women go,” observed Gibbs.

“Well,” said Tony, “It was Ernie.”

“Ernie?” said Gibbs.

“You remember, Ernie Yost.  The medal of honour recipient.”

Gibbs nodded. Corporal Yost with his mixed up memories of World War 2 was one of the MCRT’s most treasured cases.

“Well,” said Tony, “I used to go and see him.  And then he moved into the Retirement Community and I carried on visiting and …”

“And?”

“I sort of got to know lots of the other residents.”

“Including Ethyl?”

“And how!  What can I say, older people like me … and I like them.”

“Er … Tony,” said Abby who had not retreated far, “Can we look at the pictures?  Please, please, please?”  She gazed imploringly at both Tony and Gibbs.

Gibbs shrugged, “Ask DiNozzo.”  McGee noticed, however, that Gibbs didn’t move away from Tony’s desk which suggested he wanted to see the photos too.  He and Ziva edged closer.

“Sure,” said Tony and, as the beginning of an Abby squeal of pleasure began, hastily added, “But do it quietly, Abs.  I had a late night.”

Abby silently crossed her heart and then, with exaggerated care, began to open the envelope.  Sensing that could take some time, Tony said, “Not quite that quiet, Abs.”

Abby nodded and ripped the envelope open allowing the contents to fall on to the table.  There was a collective _Oh_ as the team looked at the pictures.  There were, undoubtedly, unflattering photos of Tony in his white suit and photos of him looking very uncomfortable striking a Travolta pose but the pictures which had drawn the _Oh_ were very different.  These were pictures of Tony gently leading a diminutive Ethyl across the dance floor, of them clinking their glasses together in a toast, of Tony holding court to a group of elderly men and women who all seemed to be having the time of their lives.  And finally there was a photo of Tony smiling tenderly at Ethyl as she looked up him with an adoring yet mischievous look on her face.

“That was the last waltz,” said Tony as he pointed to the picture.

There was a distinct sound of sniffing and tissues were held against people’s suddenly moist eyes.

Gibbs’ rare smile dawned.  He raised his coffee mug in salute to Tony before saying, “Get back to work everyone!  Now!”

Tony took a moment to savour a moment of glory … and then began to mix the Defibrillator.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in the ‘fixes’. The characters are back, unfixed, in their NCIS boxes.


End file.
